Strawberry Flan
by cabriolet
Summary: Yukio is watching Rin baking strawberry flan, sweet, sweet strawberry flan.


**Title:** Starwberry Flan  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Ao no Exorcist  
><strong>Character(s)Pairing(s):** Okumura Rin, Okumura Yukio/RinYukio  
><strong>Word(s):<strong> 891  
><strong>Genre(s):<strong> Fluff(?), romance(?)  
><strong>Rating<strong> **:** PG-15  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Yukio is watching Rin baking strawberry flan, sweet, sweet strawberry flan.  
><strong>AN:** Because i've been craving for strawberry flan and i know Rin loves to cook. Recipe from .uk. Un-beta-ed, how do you write it, again?

One pound of fresh red strawberries, sweet and sour. One ounces of sieved plain flour, two ounces of butter, three hundred and twenty five milliliters of fresh milk, an ounce of castor sugar, two egg yolks, and two to three tablespoons of red seedless jam. The ingredients for the fillings are complete, i look them over, checking if i had measured it right, and making sure I did not swap castor sugar with normal sugar.

Next is the pastry base. Pastry base is always tricky, you know, you need to be extra careful in both preparing and making it. But i guess you don't know because i have always been the one cooking and you all you had to do is wait, or watch sometimes with gaze that holds interest. Your eyes will light up when I'm done cooking and you will appreciate my cooks with delighted hum. You also don't know how you're making me undone whenever i heard pleasured noises you make when you eat what i made.

Back to the ingredients, i already have eight ounces or self-raising flour, another ounce of castor sugar, two ounces or lard, two ounces of margarine, and a pinch of salt. You peer from behind your glasses, asking me if i needed help and i tell you to preheat the oven, precisely _on two hundred degrees Celsius_, i say.

First is making the pastry. I begin to sieve the flour and salt, stirring in the sugar. Each and every step must be done carefully, it must be neat and precise, it has to be perfect. After I'm done with the pastry, i put it inside the oven, precisely for fifteen minutes. Next is making the custard, it's particularly easier than making the pastry because all i have to do is mixing the ingredients and stir it till i lost the feel of my hands.

I tell you to take out the pastry out of the oven because it's fifteen minutes already. You grumble but take the pastry out anyway. _Thanks_, then I fill the pastry with custard, making a sound of triumph after I'm done. There's still some batter and dough left, they're sweet, they're delicious. I'll just save it for later; i think as i take the knife and begin cutting strawberries to half. Sweet and sour, _so much like you_, i murmur under my breathe and you; _ask what was that?_

My laugh is the answer you get as i arrange the strawberries on the custard then coated it with warmed jam. They're gleaming under the light, your eyes gleam too. Unconsciously, i lick my bottom lips, cursing mentally when you dip your finger in the left over jam and begin licking it.

Putting the flan in the fridge is the last step. I tell you to wait for another ten minutes or maybe fifteen. You make a noise from your throat, finger still covered in jam and i suspect you're going to taste the leftover dough and batter next. But surprisingly, you tidy up the cooking instruments and tell me you're going to take care of them. _Thank you_, i muse out loud and throw myself on the chair, watching as the clock ticks, watching as you wash the utensils.

_Time is up_; you say and stand up from the chair, swatting your hand before you open the fridge. I peer in and grin at the sight of well-made flan. The smell is sweet, addicting and enticing, the strawberries are glazed, i can't wait to devour them. I take it out and carefully move it to the plate. You eye them hungrily and i can picture you eating them with so much fervor and child-like glee. I haven't even asked but you already hand me the knife.

I cut the flan carefully, _one slice, two slices;_ i can feel them already, the sweetness that makes me numb.

_Three slices, four slices,_ you wet your bottom lips, i wet mine too. All i want is to have a taste, real taste. I want to lick the coating off, feeling the custard melts in my mouth, and there will be pastry crumbs too, on my lips, on my fingers, on the plate.

_Five slices, six slices,_ i pause, you look into my eyes.

I want to eat you, i think. Then you blush, then you look away. I put the knife down as my mind start to wonder which one is sweeter, you or the flan?

"Nii-san?" you call me and i think i can see, breadcrumbs on your lips, custard melting in your mouth.

"Are you hungry, Yukio?" i ask and take a slice, licking the coating first before putting it between my teeth. Your eyes wander to the sweet treat, or maybe my lips, i couldn't tell if you didn't tell. "Aren't you lucky, because I'm hungry too."

You gulp and i make a pleasured hum as i take another bite, "Nii-san," you say again.

"So, Yukio, which one do you want?" i take a bite, third bite, but i didn't crush it beneath my teeth, i held them between and managed to say, "you can get both, you know, what are you waiting for?"

Sweet coating, delicious custard, sour strawberries, i don't know which one you like, but i definitely know the taste of you is my favorite.


End file.
